


Lean on Me

by CiraArana



Category: Fire's Stone - Huff
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Established Relationship, Friendship, Happy Ending, Infidelity, M/M, Romance, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:00:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiraArana/pseuds/CiraArana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darvish is fighting old demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lean on Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lesserstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesserstorm/gifts).



> Lesserstorm, it was a pleasure to write this for you. I hope you enjoy it! Many thanks to S for the beta.

Darvish wandered down the corridor, feeling restless. He'd spent the morning training in the yard with Lord Balin's men, and had then returned to his rooms for a bath and a change of clothes.

Either should have helped him relax. But neither had done so. Lord Balin only maintained a small number of guards and soldiers as his island realm based its wealth on trade, not on war or strategic importance. The guards were not badly trained, exactly, but their fighting skills were not on the level of King Jaffar's guards, either. Training with them couldn't exhaust Darvish the way training with the guards had done back home.

No. Not home. This was his home now. Chandra's home. Well, it was technically Lord Balin's palace, but Chandra had moved here from her tower after her return from Ischia. Her new husband and their foreign friend had of course come with her. So, it was Chandra's home now, too. Their home.

Even though it didn't feel entirely like home, yet.

Darvish shook his head at himself and walked on, startling servants and courtiers. They all hurried to curtsey or bow. Darvish nodded vaguely whenever he saw a somewhat familiar face but he didn't stop to talk. He needed to move.

Or at least, he needed something.

He knew what it was that he needed. He'd been needing all the time, sometimes more and sometimes less. Yet rarely had he needed as badly as he had since he had woken up this morning.

It had not always been easy to stay away, to say no when wine was offered during dinner, but moving from here Ischia had helped – a little. A new place, new people, a new start – it had helped Darvish to control his need. Sometimes, he'd even forgotten about it entirely. Of course, there had also been times when he'd felt as though he couldn't stand another moment without a drink. But on the whole, the good days had outnumbered the bad days.

Today, however, was a bad day.

A really bad day. He _needed_ a drink.

But of course he couldn't drink. Wouldn't drink. He could be strong. He would not be wine's fool again. Darvish had promised himself that.

Yet the need wouldn't go away. It made him restless, uneasy, irritated. He couldn't drink, so he needed other distractions. Fighting had always worked, even during the first hard days, after he'd just broken free from the wine. But he'd just come back from trouncing Lord Balin's men. They wouldn't thank him if he showed up again, and Darvish was sure that, since fighting hadn't helped in the first place, it wouldn't help if he tried again, either.

Striding down the corridor to the gardens, Darvish tried to come up with other possible distractions. He thought back to the days when they had travelled with the Shoi.

Hard work had helped him then, carrying loads or pushing a stuck wagon free. But he couldn't do anything like that here. He couldn't go out into the fields and offer help. He had tried that once before, and the people hadn't liked it. They had been wary of him and his intentions. They knew him as a lord, as Chandra's husband and the prince from a wealthy island; he shouldn't work with his hands!

The Shoi children had helped, too. They had liked him, and Darvish had enjoyed spending time with them, answering their questions and telling them stories of his home. But there weren't any children in the palace, or at least no children of nobles. They were all with their tutors on remote country residences. And the children of the servants, well, they were either servants as well, or approaching them would simply make their parents suspicious of him again.

He could go and offer his help to Lord Balin, of course. He knew the old lord would welcome him. Chandra had no interest in ruling her country, and both Balin and Darvish knew that the people needed a visible successor to their lord. Darvish was the obvious – and the best – choice.

Usually, Darvish liked being taught how to run a country. But not today. Today he was restless and impatient. He wouldn't be able to sit still or concentrate.

Today, he needed something that would exhaust his body while not requiring him to think.

The answer to that was obvious.

Darvish sighed. He stepped out of the castle into the gardens, and then scowled at a gaggle of ladies traipsing along the path. Turning on his heel, Darvish marched in the other direction.

It would help. It had always helped. Even during the first days. When all else had failed, Darvish had been able to toss Fion behind a bush. That's what he needed to distract himself from his craving for a drink: mindless, animalistic rutting.

Of course it was as impossible as everything else. He couldn't simply toss one of the courtiers behind a well-trimmed bush. Even if no one discovered them, and even if the courtier could keep his or her mouth shut, Darvish would know. He couldn't do that to Aaron. He loved Aaron, as a friend and as a lover. He couldn't hurt Aaron like that.

And he couldn't use Aaron as means of distraction or as means to forget, either. Aaron was too special to be used like that.

Besides, Aaron was still too new to physical love to be up for mindless pleasure. He was still skittish whenever Darvish touched him, still tensed when Darvish kissed him. Aaron didn't exactly jump and prepare to run anymore, but he was yet far from accepting intercourse between two men as natural. From what Aaron had told him about the beliefs and practices of the country of his childhood, Darvish could well understand Aaron's reticence.

He understood and accepted Aaron's reservations. He was considerate of Aaron's needs. He never kissed Aaron in public. He barely ever touched Aaron in any manner that might be seen as anything but innocent. He tried to be patient with Aaron's reluctance. He was considerate.

Darvish huffed as he came to a stop in front of a low wall that ended the path. Annoyance bubbled inside of him, and his restlessness grew, spreading through his body like a worm with many thousand feet, until Darvish's whole body itched.

Yes, he was considerate. He was always so considerate: of Aaron's deep-seated fear, of Chandra's desire to not be burdened with anything that wasn't magic. He was always so One-abandoned considerate of everybody else's needs.

But what about him? What about _his_ needs? Why couldn't they be considerate of what Darvish needed? Just this once?

Darvish turned on his heel and stalked back towards the castle.

It wasn't much that he needed. Or rather, it was only the wine, but they wouldn't let him drink. And they knew that if they wouldn't let him drink, he needed other things. And it wasn't that much that he needed. Just a quick tumble in the sheets. It didn't mean anything. Wasn't this exactly why he wouldn't use Aaron that way? Because it didn't mean anything. But they would frown at him, and Chandra would yell and threaten him, and Aaron would go blank and expressionless and … Bugger the Nine. It wasn't _fair_!

Without any conscious thoughts of where he was going, Darvish strode back into the palace and down several corridors. Each step he took seemed to reverberate through his whole body, echoing as though he was entirely hollow inside. And he was, wasn't he? There was a huge hole inside of him, a need, a yearning, and there was no one here to fill it.

Anger pounded through him in time with his heartbeat. Darvish clenched his fists until he could feel his fingernails biting into his palms. Some small part of his mind told him he was being ridiculous and childish. Worse, he was being foolish. But the largest part was angry.

Restless.

Craving wine, but of course he couldn't, so he craved company instead.

They could bloody well be considerate of his needs for once!

And so Darvish didn't shake his head and excuse himself with a smile when a courtier approached him.

The man had shown his interest in Darvish, and in a more intimate relationship, on several occasions. Darvish had recognised the signs, the coy glances and heated smiles. So far, however, the courtier had never made an open move and asked Darvish for a private meeting, and therefore Darvish had never rebuffed the man. It wouldn't have been polite.

Besides, it had amused him to watch how Lord Balin's courtiers skulked around him, eying him but never approaching – so very respectful of their Lady Chandra's presence. It had amused Darvish that everyone had been looking at the wrong person not to anger.

Of course, most didn't know about his relationship with Aaron. They hadn't exactly made that public, for several reasons. While Chandra's people accepted same-sex relationships, it wouldn't be wise to be open about the fact that she and her husband had no intimate relationship, and that said husband had a male lover. Plus, Aaron had disliked the idea of letting everyone know. Darvish hadn't liked that argument – he _wanted_ to be known as Aaron's lover – but he'd accepted it and derived considerable amusement from the situation.

Besides, it wasn't as if he'd ever been tempted. He had never been interested in any of the eyelash-fluttering courtiers. There hadn't been anything a vain, vapid courtier could give him that Aaron couldn't, after all.

Except now. Now the man was exactly was Darvish wanted. So he only smiled when the courtier pressed up against his body. And when the nobleman ran his hands over Darvish's chest, cooing something about how wonderful his Highness looked and how strong he was, Darvish grabbed the man's hand and dragged the giggling fool to his rooms.

The courtier started when they stumbled through the door and found Fadi tidying up. Fadi stared back just as wide-eyed, but Darvish ignored him. He kicked the door closed, impatient, and pulled his nice company into a kiss.

The courtier reacted with gratifying promptness, moaning and arching against Darvish's body. He twined his arms around Darvish's neck and wriggled provocatively. The man didn't pull away or stop, even when Fadi squeaked and dropped whatever he had been holding. Darvish, feeling his body respond, was pleased and yanked the man even closer.

The noble was a true courtier, so slender and soft and perfumed that Darvish might as well have been kissing a woman. He dimly recalled having entertained many such men before, and the way this one felt and moved, even the way he moaned, it was all so familiar.

But at the same time, it was startlingly odd. The man was too small, too soft. He pulled on Darvish's clothes and rocked his hips against Darvish's thigh. He was too bold. Darvish felt continuously thrown out of balance as his mind pointed out each unexpected move the man made. It kept Darvish away from losing himself in the pleasure. It was irritating. It wasn't right.

The last thought continued to echo in Darvish's mind. Not right, not right, until Darvish felt he had to scream or shatter, more restless and tense than before. No, it wasn't right; it shouldn't be like this.

Furious with himself and the world that denied him his mindless pleasure, Darvish drew back and yanked at his clothes. The courtier laughed throatily and sank to his knees to help Darvish with his trousers. He pounced the moment the fine wool sank down to Darvish's ankles. Darvish jerked and groaned as his prick was suddenly engulfed in soft heat, and a practised mouth began working him to full hardness.

Yes, that was more like it, Darvish thought. He closed his eyes and thrust forward, deeper into that talented mouth. His lover grunted appreciatively and sucked harder. Darvish reached down to tangle his fingers in his lover's hair to hold him steady. The long, silken strands slid through his fingers, and Darvish was jolted out of the thickening fog of pleasure.

Blinking his eyes open, he glanced down, bewildered. For a moment, he stared uncomprehendingly at the dark-haired, dark-skinned man. A hand found its way to Darvish's bottom, and he groaned with pleasure even as he tried to understand.

It was all so wrong.

Fingers slid cheekily down between his buttocks. Darvish jolted.

'No,' he gasped and stumbled back. There was a popping sound, and suddenly he felt exposed. 'No, stop.'

'My apologies, Highness,' the man said demurely and fluttered his lashes. 'Was I doing something wrong?'

Wrong. Something wrong. Oh, Nine above and One below! Darvish ran his hands through his hair and tried to step away. He stumbled over his trousers still pooling around his ankles and sat down hard, but fortunately on the bed.

'Highness?' The man got to his feet, worried, at Darvish's pained moan. 'Are you hurt? My apologies again, if I did something wrong.'

Darvish shook his head. He felt sick. 'I was doing something wrong.'

'Ah, no. Surely you cannot think that.'

The courtier's purred words stopped Darvish short. He looked up just as the man sank down in front of him again. There was a smile on the noble's face, lascivious and teasing.

'Surely you do not think this wrong, Highness,' the man purred again and placed his hands on Darvish's knees. He made move to run his palms up Darvish's thighs, but Darvish caught his hands and pushed them away.

'I don't think it's wrong. I know it is.' He shoved the courtier aside and got to his feet, pulling up his trousers in the same move.

'But, Highness,' the man lilted, and there were hands again on Darvish's bum. 'I vow I am very discreet. Lady Chandra will never know.'

It wasn't funny this time. Darvish grit his teeth and stepped away. 'No. Stop!' he ordered. 'I can't do this. I _won't_ do this! Please leave now.'

The courtier seemed to think it was a game, for he slunk closer and rubbed himself against Darvish like a cat in heat. 'Hmm, Highness, no one need ever know …'

Darvish opened his mouth to snarl at the fool, but the man used the moment to pounce. Darvish stumbled backwards as the man threw himself on him, and then they both toppled backwards onto the bed. The second they had landed, the courtier was wriggling, pulling on Darvish's trousers and trying to kiss him.

Darvish growled, furious at the man's insolence, both for ignoring his no and for assaulting him. He grabbed the man's shoulders and pushed him away, half sitting up. The courtier whimpered something, 'You're so rough, Highness,' something, and Darvish bared his teeth, about to snap.

Butt his words froze in his throat, and his whole body froze in the uncomfortable position, for from the corner of his eye, Darvish could see someone standing in the door. Someone with red hair and pale skin. He didn't want to look, but he couldn't stop his head turning, couldn't stop his mouth forming the name, 'Aaron.'

The courtier, realising that Darvish wasn't merely pretending distraction, turned as well. 'Oh. Lord Aaron. I.'

It was probably the worst thing he could have said, or not said, sounding so guilty and caught, not that the fool knew it. But Darvish did, and he saw Aaron's blank face become even blanker, saw the grey eyes become empty and expressionless. A sharp pain lanced through his chest, and Darvish shot to his feet with a muffled curse, dumping the noble on the ground in the process.

'Aaron!'

But before he had even finished the second syllable, Aaron had turned and left, closing the door behind him. Darvish swore again and hurried to the door, yanking it open and bursting into the corridor.

It was completely empty.

Darvish's whole body sagged. For a moment, he closed his eyes in hopeless pain. Nine above, he was such a fool. More than a fool. Despicable. Worse. There was no word for what he was.

All his earlier arguments were like ashes in his mouth. A One-abandoned fool. Would he never learn? And now he'd done the one thing he'd sworn he wouldn't. He'd hurt Aaron. The Nine knew what Aaron would do now.

He might leave.

Darvish bit back a sob. Aaron might leave. Leave Darvish and the island. There was nothing that held him here, except friendship, and now Darvish had ruined that, too.

Feeling sick and cold inside, Darvish stumbled back into his room, and was brought up short when he almost literally ran into the noble. He'd entirely forgotten the man was here.

Darvish gave the man a weak snarl. 'Please leave now.'

The courtier's shaky smile faded. He tugged nervously on his clothes and fiddled with his long hair. Darvish suddenly wanted to tear it out.

'I … your Highness, what—?' His mouth snapped shut so fast his teeth clicked when Darvish glared at him.

'That was the reason why I said no,' Darvish growled. And then, because he was sick and tired of hiding, because he wanted everyone to know, and because he needed to at least redeem Aaron in the other man's eyes after what he'd done, 'That was the man I love.'

The courtier blinked, nonplussed. He opened his mouth, took one glance at Darvish's face, and shut it again.

'I, um … Permission to leave, your Highness?'

Darvish's dismissive gesture would have been a slap had the man stood any closer. The courtier squeaked and scrambled to leave the room.

After the door had closed behind the man, Darvish dragged his leaden feet to the bed and sat down. For long moments, he simply sat there, staring at nothing. Then he hid his face in his hands. His shoulders shook.

And the worst thing was, he still craved wine.

No wizard of the Fourth could invent torture more painful.

He was still sitting in the same position, slumped over and face hidden in his hands, when Oham came to tell him it was time to dress for dinner.

Darvish raised his head and blinked gritty, burning eyes at his first dresser. Oham's face was an expressionless mask. Darvish shuddered and looked away. Oham didn't have to speak for Darvish to know what his oldest servant was thinking. Of course Fadi had told him what Darvish had done. Oham would even know that Aaron had seen and left. Oham always knew things like that.

'Has anyone seen Aaron?' Darvish dared to ask, after a long silence.

'No, Highness,' Oham replied, his voice surprisingly gentle. 'Not since the afternoon.'

'Yes, he…' Darvish began but couldn't continue. Oham remained silent. 'I'd already said no,' Darvish mumbled finally. 'Said stop. Only the fool didn't.'

Another silence followed his words. Darvish sighed and stared at his limp hands in his lap. 'Just say it, Oham.'

'Your Highness?'

Darvish looked up with a twisted smile. 'Just say I shouldn't have brought the man in the first place.'

Oham's face softened. 'It is not my place to say so, Highness.' He came to Darvish and rested a big hand on Darvish's shoulder. 'Now, please stand up, Highness. It is time to get dressed for dinner.'

Darvish shook his head. 'I'm not hungry.'

'Highness …'

'No. I'm not going to sit down to dinner.' Suddenly feeling energetic, Darvish got to his feet. 'I'm not sitting down, eating and making conversation when … Bugger the Nine. I'll go and find Aaron.'

With that, Darvish stormed out of his room, barely taking the time to smooth down his clothes. Inwardly, he was ranting at himself. Not only was he a despicable, One-abandoned fool, he was also an idiot. The worst kind of idiot. There he'd been sitting in his room and feeling sorry for himself, when he should have tried to find Aaron. Find the man, apologise, and explain. Swear he'd learnt from his mistake and wouldn't do it again. Ever.

By the Nine, he would offer to be soul-linked to Aaron, if that was what it took! He'd be willing to bind himself to Aaron like that, bind himself so he couldn't get more than ten body-lengths away from Aaron. He deserved it, being tied like that. And perhaps Aaron would trust him again.

And if he was bound to Aaron, an insidious little voice whispered to him, he could draw on Aaron's strength when he needed to fight the craving for wine. Darvish snarled at it, then ignored it. He had better things to do.

Looking for a man who had once been a thief and knew every hiding place by default wasn't easy. Darvish knew that. It was made more difficult by the fact that Darvish still didn't know the palace very well. Oh, he knew where the most important rooms were, how to get to the gardens and the training yards, but that was about the extent of his knowledge. Aaron had probably mapped out the place by the second day after their arrival.

Nevertheless, Darvish knew some of the places where Aaron liked to go. He even knew some of the places where Aaron liked to go when he wanted to be alone, meaning where he liked to hide. But all of those places were empty.

Darvish took to asking any servant he met. There weren't many, as most were either busy preparing and serving food or had retired for the day after finishing their work. None of them had seen Aaron since the morning, anyway. Neither had most of the guards. And when Darvish finally found someone who had seen Aaron, he wished he hadn't. The two guards positioned at the castle's side gate, the one that led to the stables and then to the town and the harbour, had seen Aaron leave.

Darvish had enough presence of mind to thank them before he stumbled away, feeling as though someone had hit him hard. His head was curiously heavy, and he didn't seem to be able to get enough air into his lungs.

Aaron had left. He'd left. Gone to the stables, probably taken a horse, rode to the harbour and … left.

Darvish didn't go to the stables to ask. He didn't want to know anymore.

Feeling both raw and numb, he made his way back to his room, where he was accosted by a very angry Chandra.

'By the Nine, where have you been?' she shouted the moment he entered. 'There was an embassy from your father! They expected to see you! The Nine and One help me, Darvish, if you …!' She stopped and blinked, as though only now seeing him. 'Darvish?' she asked worriedly. 'What happened?'

Darvish stared at her. She looked strange. Then he realised that she was wearing formal court wear. Her hair was elegantly braided, and she looked older, more feminine, like the powerful wizard and heir to the island realm she was. He felt guilty, not only what he'd done to Aaron but for disappointing her as well.

'Darvish?' she asked again. 'Oham told me you said you weren't hungry and that you had dashed off to find Aaron. Did something happen to Aaron? Where is he? And what happened to you?'

She was standing in front of him now, one hand on his arm. Her eyes were wide and worried, and a little annoyed. Despite her unfamiliar clothes, she looked so much like the girl who had helped him save his home and people that Darvish felt some barrier inside give way. The words tumbled out of his mouth, stumbling over each other in his haste. Everything poured out: the need and the restlessness and the anger, the courtier whom he hadn't told no, his realisation that he didn't want the man after all, and Aaron walking in on them.

When he'd finished, he found himself sitting on his bed, Chandra beside him, feeling oddly light. Feeling not alone.

Chandra cuffed him on the back of the head. 'You're an idiot, Darvish!'

'Ow,' Darvish protested, but meekly. He knew he was. 'I know. I shouldn't have … shouldn't done as much as think about that noble, or anyone else, for that matter.'

'That, too.' Chandra rolled her eyes. 'And I really should hit you harder, for hurting Aaron like that. Only I imagine you're already hitting yourself hard enough. But I meant you're an idiot for forgetting us.'

'Forgetting whom?'

'Your friends, Dar! We're your friends, Aaron and I. Why didn't you come to us, one of us, when you felt you couldn't stand it alone anymore?'

The Nine help him, she sounded hurt, as if he'd ignored them on purpose. Darvish bristled. 'To you?' he shot back defensively. 'To which of you? Aaron? I haven't seen him since this morning, after he disappeared the Nine know where! You? You threatened to fry my brain the last time I tried. Pardon me for not wanting to disturb a Wizard of the Nine again!'

Chandra blinked at him, her mouth hanging open. 'What? You burst in without even knocking, Darvish! You were lucky I wasn't performing or studying a spell! There's a reason why wizards of the Nine work alone, you idiot! You could have been hurt!'

'Right, so you threaten me with more pain and then you wonder why I don't come to find you?'

'But that's not the same!'

'No? Then you should explain, oh Most Wise, since the rest of us unworthy creatures can't read minds!'

'Stop being such a fool, Dar. I told you to knock!'

'Right after you told me you'd fry my brain if I disturbed you again! Since you neglected to tell me that "knocking" isn't the same as "disturbing" …'

Chandra reached up and pulled on her elaborately coiffed hair. Some strands loosened and feel into her face. She huffed. 'Right. Good. Just so you know, you can knock. If I'm not busy, I'll answer.'

'Yes, thanks. Good to know.'

They glared at each other. Then Chandra's lips twitched. Darvish bit the inside of his cheek. Chandra made some choked sounds, then she began to laugh. Darvish joined her, chuckling. But his amusement soon faded away, and he sat back down onto the bed, feeling even more miserable than before.

Chandra's laughter ended and she sat down next to him, one hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry I gave you the impression that you can't come to me, Darvish.'

Darvish shrugged, uneasy. 'I don't … I don't think you could've helped. I was … well.'

Chandra patted him. 'At the very least, I could have told you where you could find Aaron.'

Darvish looked up. 'Did you know?'

She gave him a peeved look. 'Of course I knew. He went to the smithy. Well, I don't know exactly _what_ he was doing there, but Father said it had something to do with expenses.'

'Oh.' Darvish clenched his fists, feeling even worse now. Aaron had been working, using his knowledge to Lord Balin's profit, while Darvish had been stomping around acting like a spoiled child. Nine and One, he'd never learn, would he? Darvish groaned.

Chandra's voice interrupted his self-loathing. 'You didn't find him?'

He looked at her. Chandra was frowning, tugging on her hair. Darvish shook his head. 'No. I didn't. The guards at the stable gate said they'd seen him leave.'

Her frown darkened for a moment; then she shot him a shrewd glance. 'He won't have left the island, Dar.'

Darvish was almost sure that Chandra just knew him so well she could tell what he was thinking and that she wasn't using her powers on him. He wasn't sure that was better. 'He might have.'

Chandra snorted. 'It's more likely he's gone somewhere to think about what he did wrong, that you had to go find someone else to warm your bed.'

'What?' Darvish blinked. 'But he didn't do anything wrong! _I_ did!'

'This is Aaron we're talking about,' Chandra replied, tossing her now messy braid over her shoulder. 'He's a clever man, but he's a child where love is concerned. Well, of course he is. And when you think of how long he carried that guilt around with him, even though it wasn't his fault at all …' She shrugged and got up.

Darvish flinched. 'Nine Above and One Below,' he groaned and hid his face in his hands.

'You men are all idiots when it comes to love,' Chandra said, more than a little patronising, and patted his shoulder again.

When she turned away, Darvish peered at her over his fingertips. 'What are we going to do?'

She looked at him over her shoulder. 'We? I'm going bed.'

'What?!'

'Well, what else can I do? If Aaron doesn't want to be found, he won't be, and I'm not going to intrude on his privacy.' Chandra glared a little, but then her face softened. 'I'll scry for him if he hasn't come back tomorrow.'

Darvish took a deep breath. 'Thank you,' he said hoarsely. He stood up and went to the door. Chandra gave him a curious look.

'What are you going to do?'

Darvish opened the door and gave her a weak smile. 'Look for him.'

Chandra opened her mouth, then shut it again. She shook her head, smiled at him, and left him alone. Darvish straightened his shoulders and headed towards the stables. He'd ask the stable hands if they had seen Aaron. He couldn't sit and do nothing but wait for Aaron to come to terms with the situation and come back. He couldn't.

Yet his search proved futile again. The stables were almost empty of people, and the old man who held watch at night could only tell Darvish that Lord Aaron hadn't taken a horse. That was good news as far as Darvish was concerned, but it still didn't help him find Aaron. He kept looking, though, once more checking all of Aaron's favourite hiding places; without success. When it had gone finally completely dark, Darvish gave up. He'd never find Aaron now. He trudged back to his room with a heavy heart.

Only Oham waited for him to prepare him for bed, and Darvish was thankful. He didn't want to face Fadi or his number three now. Oham was quiet as he helped Darvish to bed, and then left just as silently.

Darvish tried to sleep but couldn't. His thoughts raced and spun inside of his head, like the world used to do when he'd had too much wine.

Wine. He still craved it. Still wanted it with a single-minded obsession. But he wouldn't even think of it. Darvish gritted his teeth. This had landed him in the mess he was in. This thinking and craving. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

He'd fight the thoughts of wine with thoughts of Aaron.

It hurt just as much, if not more, to think of Aaron. Of what he'd done to Aaron. The pain was deeper, sharper, but it was his penance. Darvish laughed, harshly and bitterly. Only he could think of hurting someone he loved as penance. Bugger the Nine, he was such a contemptible waste of man. Aaron deserved better than him.

The thought of Aaron with someone else hurt even more and kept him awake, staring into the darkness, for a long time.

But Darvish must have fallen asleep at one point, because when he opened his eyes again, light was falling through the curtained windows, and he could hear the sounds of the bustling castle.

With a groan, Darvish sat up and rubbed his face. A glance to the window told him it was late. He looked around, wondering why Oham hadn't come to wake him up – and paused when he saw Aaron sitting in the niche of the second window, watching him. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes. He looked as exhausted as Darvish felt. Apparently his night's rest had been as short and interrupted as Darvish's.

With a jolt, Darvish sat up straight, remembering just what had interrupted his night so much. Wild joy flashed through him – Aaron hadn't left him! Aaron had come back!

But then the blankness of Aaron's eyes registered, and all joy vanished. Oh, One Below.

'Aaron!' Darvish gasped. 'I'm sorry, I never meant … I …'

Aaron just stared at him, and Darvish faltered. He wanted to explain himself, apologise, reassure Aaron it hadn't meant anything, couldn't mean anything, but his mouth wouldn't work. The words wouldn't come. He could only stare in helpless, pleading silence.

Finally, a soft sigh broke the heavy stillness between them. 'Why did you do it?' Aaron asked softly, too softly for Darvish to hear any emotions that might have swung in the question. But perhaps that was more telling than anything he might have heard.

He shook his head. 'I didn't. Aaron, I didn't, I couldn't … I wasn't thinking … I stopped even before you came in!'

Aaron appeared unmoved. 'You either approached that man or didn't refuse him. You brought him to your bedroom for one purpose only.'

Darvish cringed and lowered his eyes. Yes, he had done that, hadn't said no, and he was ashamed of himself. Ashamed for his need and stupidity. Aaron would never have done something so stupid.

A spark of resentment flared up. Aaron had known who and what Darvish was! Why was he angry now? Why should Darvish be ashamed and cower before Aaron?

Because Aaron knew Darvish could be better, a small voice whispered in his mind. Expected him to be. Aaron, and Chandra as well, were about the only people in Darvish's life who thought he was better than he seemed to be. Who didn't think him a drunken, foolish lout.

And that was why he was ashamed.

The resentment flickered and died.

Darvish took a deep breath and forced himself to look up at Aaron. He had to be honest, at least, to show Aaron, to prove to _himself_, he could learn from mistakes.

'I … I was … restless,' he began hesitatingly. 'I … needed. I … It was a bad day, yesterday. The wine …' Nine Above and One Below, it was so _hard_ to say those things! Darvish soldiered on. 'I'd spent the morning in the training yards but … it didn't go away. The need. And I didn't know what to do. I felt … as though millions of beetles were crawling inside of me and I couldn't stay still. Couldn't concentrate. Couldn't _think_. And.' He swallowed hard and forced himself to continue. 'I was angry. That you weren't there.'

Aaron considered him until Darvish felt like squirming and screaming at him to say something, anything. Then Aaron cocked his head. 'Why didn't you come to me, then?'

The resentment sparked again, but Darvish beat it back. 'I didn't know where you were,' he replied, trying hard not to sound sullen.

'You could have asked someone,' Aaron pointed out reasonably.

Darvish grit his teeth and clenched his fists. Yes, he could have. Aaron was right, damn him. But there had been a reason.

'I didn't want to use you,' Darvish said quietly. 'For … forgetting. You are … too important. Special. To be used that way.'

Yes, that had been his reason: to not treat Aaron like a toy, to be used one and then thrown away. It didn't seem to be such a good reason today.

'And if you had come to simply talk?' Aaron inquired. 'To tell me how you were feeling? That you needed the wine so much?'

Darvish shrugged uncomfortably. 'What would have been the use? What good would it have been if I'd told you that I … that I wanted … Bugger the Nine, that I wanted to fuck someone?'

Aaron cocked his head to the other side. 'You don't think talking would have helped?'

'No. Yes, maybe.' Darvish ran a hand through his hair, exhaling a frustrated sigh. 'Perhaps. I don't know.'

Aaron nodded slowly but didn't say anything. Darvish fidgeted. Unable to stand the silence and his own shame, he burst out, 'But what would you have done if I'd told you? You wouldn't have told me to go off and find someone to play with, would you? And you wouldn't have agreed to be the one, either. Don't look like that, I know you don't like to be pounced on,' he added defensively as the demonwings rose in surprised scepticism.

'Not in public, no,' Aaron agreed dryly. 'But there are such things as doors.'

Darvish shot out of the bed and stalked towards Aaron's window seat. 'And you don't like to fight, either,' he barked, stabbing a finger at Aaron's chest.

The demonwings lowered into a frown. 'No, I don't like to fight,' Aaron said softly. 'I don't like to kill. But, Dar,' he raised his eyes, and Darvish froze at their intensity, 'if you had needed it, I would have fought with you.'

Darvish gaped, stunned, dismayed, and horrified that Aaron would do this for him. Deeply ashamed that Aaron would overcome his own misgivings to help Darvish with something he loathed. What kind of useless, pathetic cripple had he become in Aaron's eyes?

It was too much for Darvish, between Aaron's intensity and his own emotions. He needed a drink. He needed to get rid of Aaron.

With a dismissive shrug, Darvish turned and strolled back to his bed.

'You aren't good enough,' he tossed over his shoulder. 'I need someone who can really fight me, and you can't do that.'

'How would you know?'

The quietly spoken words stopped Darvish in his tracks. He turned around.

Aaron had risen from his seat and was standing in front of the window. The light from behind silhouetted his body, and he was tense, in position to strike. Darvish knew that position well, and he could tell that Aaron wasn't merely adopting a pose he'd seen. Aaron _knew_ that position. Perhaps better than he did, Darvish suddenly realised.

Then Aaron turned his head slightly, and the light coming through the curtain fell onto his face. It was pale and just as tense as his body, and showed an expression Darvish had never seen before: cold and hard, the grey eyes like chips of steel.

Aaron was undoubtedly his father's son.

Darvish gasped. 'I … Aaron …'

Another minute shift, and Aaron was Aaron again. Still tense and pale, but not as hard as before.

'I would have fought with you,' he repeated softly.

Darvish had to turn away. He couldn't bear it, couldn't bear looking at Aaron and knowing … Nine Above and One Below! How could Aaron do that, just offer himself up so simply? And what could Darvish say? All his own pretty excuses and arguments, all his explanations for what he'd done and not done, and Aaron swept them away just like that, with a simple offer. To be what Darvish needed. How could he do that? How could Darvish accept that?

'Dar.'

Darvish looked up slowly as Aaron stepped closer to him.

'Dar, you can come to me when you need me.' Aaron's voice, almost gentle, hurt more than screaming could have. Not that Aaron ever screamed. 'You can ask me for help.'

Darvish shivered and gasped for air. 'I … I don't,' he panted. 'I can't … Aaron, I can't always … I always need you to help me. You always have to help me. I can't keep doing that, it's not … not right, not fair to you, that you always have to be the one who needs to … to carry me and that you never get someone who carries you. Who helps you when you need it. I mustn't take all of you without giving anything back, Aaron, I can't—'

A slender finger on his lips stopped him. Aaron shook his head. 'Not like that. It doesn't work like that, Dar. I don't count the times you need me and weigh them against the times I need you. You are strong, Dar, you don't need me to be your crutch. But everyone needs someone sometimes. All I'm saying is that I'm here for you when you need me.'

Darvish closed his eyes, fighting back the tears. He clenched his hands at his sides to resist pulling Aaron into his arms. He didn't have that right, not after what he'd done.

'Dar.' Hands on his shoulder, and then there were thumbs on his jaw, forcing him to look up. Aaron smiled slightly. 'You lean on me, I lean on you. Remember?' Suddenly, a wide, mischievous grin flashed across Aaron's face. 'Or Chandra hits you.'

Darvish blinked, thrown off balance by the grin and the name. 'Chandra?'

Aaron's thick brows rose again, this time with amusement. 'Well, I have noticed the way she sometimes looks at us, even if you didn't.'

'What way?' Darvish asked, completely bewildered.

'Like she wants to roll her eyes, glare, and stomp away, muttering something very unflattering about "men".'

There was a sudden noise that sounded like a hastily muffled exclamation. Darvish blinked at the door.

'And she listens at doors,' Aaron finished, still grinning, and stepped back.

The silence on the other side of the door was very heavy. Then the door opened, and Chandra peeked in, looking flushed but also quite unapologetic.

'I didn't want to interrupt,' she said and came in. She looked from Darvish to Aaron. 'Darvish said you'd vanished and that he'd go looking for you. I came to find out whether he'd found you or whether you'd come back yourself. And then I heard you talking.' She looked back at Darvish, shrugged, and then glared at Aaron. 'And if you know that, why don't you _do_ something about it?'

Darvish looked between them, feeling like perhaps he had not yet woken up. Aaron grinned at Chandra, who huffed. There seemed to be an entire conversation going on between them that Darvish wasn't privy to.

'Why should I do something?' Aaron said, demonwings fluttering. 'It works for Dar and me.'

Chandra rolled her eyes at Aaron, glared at Darvish, and then stomped out of the room, muttering under her breath. Darvish had the notion that it was something unflattering about men. He shook his head, then looked back at Aaron. Aaron turned back from the door and looked at him.

Suddenly, the lighter atmosphere of the previous moments was gone. Silence hung heavy and intense. Darvish gazed into Aaron's grey eyes that seemed to have become the entire world, deep and wide and warm. In the next moment, he had yanked Aaron into his arms, buried his face in Aaron's hair, clinging to Aaron with all his strength. Aaron's arms wrapped around his shoulders, hard and tight like bands of steel.

'I need you,' he whispered roughly into Aaron's hair. 'Nine and One, I need you so much.' He could feel a shiver run through Aaron's body.

'Lean on me, Dar,' Aaron whispered back, his breath warm and moist on Darvish's neck. 'Whenever you need me. I can carry us both for a while.'

Darvish tightened his arms, wanting to feel Aaron even closer. Aaron's body was so right against his, lean and strong. Nine Above, he felt so good. Darvish never wanted to let go again.

Aaron mumbled something and lifted his head. Darvish grabbed Aaron's neck, not wanting the man to pull away, not wanting to let go yet. Ever. Then Aaron tilted his head back and up. His lashes fluttered nervously over darkened and pleading eyes. Darvish gave a choked moan and bent down to kiss Aaron.

Aaron's lips opened under his and Aaron's mouth welcomed his tongue. Aaron's hands tangled in Darvish's hair. Aaron's hips moved shyly against Darvish's and Darvish felt the evidence of Aaron's own need. He groaned and held onto Aaron even tighter.

It was the first time, ever, that Aaron had instigated this.

He was forgiven.

As Darvish picked Aaron up to carry him to their bed and show him, prove to him, just how much more Aaron was to him than anybody else could ever be, he vowed to himself that he wouldn't forget again. He promised himself he would remember that he wasn't alone. That, even when Chandra and Aaron weren't right next to him, he wasn't alone. They were there for him.

He didn't have to fight alone.

He had friends, for the first time in his life. They cared for him. They had seen his worst – more than once – and they were still his friends. They wouldn't laugh at him for his weakness or leave him when he needed them, and they wouldn't let him stagger and fall.

But if he did, they would pick him back up and stay by his side until they were sure that he could walk on his own again, not leading him or holding him upright, just there. And they wouldn't tolerate him whining or becoming dependent on them, either, because they knew that, in the end, he could stand and walk on his own.

He would never forget that again.

And later, much later, maybe tomorrow, he'd go to Chandra and tell her to hit him should he ever forget it or break his promise. Because if he did, he deserved to have his brain fried.

But for now, Darvish thought with a smile as he lay them down, he had Aaron to make love to. Leaning in for another kiss, he proceeded to do just that.

End


End file.
